Tender Loving Care
by ringaroundtherollins
Summary: A multi-ship trio of one-shots regarding events on tonight's episode of Raw (12/28/15.) Kalisto cares for an injured Sin Cara after a damaging match with Big E. Xavier Woods finds himself falling for Kofi Kingston even harder. And Roman Reigns is infuriated after Dean Ambrose is ruthlessly targeted by Kevin Owens. Some language. Lots of fluff.
1. Chapter 1

Kalisto was panicked.

A string of profanities, alternating between English and Spanish, wove through his brain. Sin Cara was never one to ever step down from a challenge, back off, walk away if he felt blustered—but tonight, his match against Big E hadn't been necessary. The Lucha Dragons could have made off as victors, Kalisto specifically since it had been his match first against Kofi Kingston, but Xavier Woods just had to open his mouth. Bait Sin Cara. Declare payback.

It had worked.

And now, Sin Cara was hurt.

Kalisto had been forced to stand by and watch it all go down. He'd tried to help. Tried getting Big E's irritating partners out of the picture. But Sin Cara had been sentenced without a crime.

The New Day made off after the secondary victory, bumping their bodies to the music, shouting and wailing something about Big E being a big, strong man…whatever, blah blah blah. Kalisto was fretting, trembling, distraught.

The official was kneeling beside Kalisto's partner, inspecting his shoulder. He'd cracked it pretty hard against the floor of the Barclays Center, just outside the ring. His face was invisible behind his mask, but Kalisto interpreted the pain on his own. Sensed it. Heard it through Sin Cara's groans and whimpers. _Felt_ it, a compassion sort of experience, sympathy pains.

The medical staff was on the case.

"I'm fine," Sin Cara said as men dressed in black surrounded him for a proper inspection. Kalisto touched his back as Sin Cara reached his uninjured arm towards the ring to pull himself up.

"Just let them check on you," Kalisto pressed, his voice at an unfamiliar light pitch. " _Por favor_."

" _Innecesario_ ," his _amor_ answered him.

 _Yeah, so was your match against him in the first place, yet it happened._ "Please," Kalisto said, drawing his hand from Sin Cara's backside to his hand on the apron. "It would make me feel better. I want to make sure you're okay."

" _Estoy bien._ " The confident—and, Kalisto could admit to it, stubborn—Lucha Dragon would have said that regardless of how he truly felt. Just to make Kalisto calm down. Quit worrying so much.

If the roles were reversed, Kalisto _knew_ Sin Cara would make him get a checkup, so he maintained.

"I believe you. Just…let them do their jobs. Please. For me," he coaxed.

Kalisto heard the sigh push through the thin material of Sin Cara's mask. At last he gave a small nod, and the medical staff helped him to his feet.

His lower half hadn't been injured, but Sin Cara moved at a gradual pace towards the trainer's room for a physical analysis. He was escorted by the on-site physicians but it was Kalisto standing closest to him, guiding his steps, matching his stride. He held Sin Cara's hand the entire way, giving not a _spec_ of a damn what people might have thought of it. _Let them think I'm just helping a buddy out, or let them think we're together. That's fine. They'll know the truth someday_.

God help the New Day if they crossed paths with the Lucha Dragons again tonight.

Fortunately there wasn't another showdown and the team made it to the trainer's room. Sin Cara was handed a pack of ice and asked to sit in a chair to wait for an x-ray. Perhaps he was impatient to leave, but the point was he was staying, and Kalisto was relieved about it.

"You don't have to stay here with me," Sin Cara said, leaning close to Kalisto. He would have given anything for a quick kiss, even just on the cheek. "This might take a while. You can go back to the hotel."

" _No sin ti_." _Not without you_ , Kalisto had told him in their native language. He wasn't going anywhere. Sin Cara might have been more responsible for his injury than Kalisto was, but Big E was the brute Kalisto truly blamed, and that damn Xavier who talked far more often than he fought.

Kalisto heard the smile in Sin Cara's voice. "I love you."

"Love you." Kalisto swaddled Sin Cara's hand, the one attached to a damaged arm, in his lap. Sin Cara snaked an arm over Kalisto's shoulder and drew him into a side-hold.

Who gave a damn anymore? Truly?

 _So what if people know? Should we just announce it? Or is it any of their business_?

"Sin Cara?" A nurse waved him over from across the cramped room. "Come on over."

It was the one place Kalisto couldn't join him. Hold his hand.

"Good luck," Kalisto said as Sin Cara left him behind.

The checkup took a long time, and felt even longer than it truly was. Part of that played towards Kalisto's disquietude. He found himself rocky gently in the chair, back and forth, fingers meshing with each other and releasing again. Inside, he was numb, his mind tortured with worst-case scenarios. _Please, Dios mio, nothing serious. Say he can still wrestle. Say it's only a matter of days before we extract revenge on those bastards_.

Kalisto reflected on the progress of the Lucha Dragons. How far the pair had come, even before hooking up in secrecy, giving their _partnership_ a more profound, furtive definition. Sin Cara had become his partner in the NXT last year after Kalisto and El Local split. He'd performed well from the start with Sin Cara. They were champions together. Fighters. Powerful.

Falling in love hadn't been part of the plan, but Kalisto was okay with it.

Sin Cara made him the happiest man in the world, and he was honored to fight beside such talent, brawn, and intrepidity. His gorgeous looks were just a bonus. And he treated Kalisto like royalty. God, how had he gotten so lucky—?

Kalisto heard his partner scream.

In a flash he was out of his chair, shooting across the room like a bullet with smoke trailing him, knuckles rapping on the door of the exam room frantically. " _Sin Cara_! Are you okay?"

He nearly invited himself into the room without permission when the nurse from before pulled the door open and offered a feeble smile that did nothing to calm his nerves. "The x-ray didn't reveal any broken bones, however, he _does_ have a dislocated shoulder. The doctor just popped it back into place."

"Oh, God," Kalisto said, voice breaking. So _that's_ what the scream had been about. The superstars were trained to cope with incredible amounts of pain, but Kalisto couldn't imagine a much worse agony than that process. His eyes lifted over the nurse's shoulder, and he had a view of an unmasked Sin Cara laying on the exam table, a doctor patting his arm, praising him for handling the routine bravely.

He was so beautiful. So perfect.

So hurt.

It hurt just _seeing_ him like this.

Kalisto took a step forward. The nurse blocked his path with her arm outstretched.

"I'm sorry, Kalisto, the exam isn't over yet."

"I want to be in here with him. Please." She had no reason to dismiss his presence.

"I need him," Sin Cara spoke.

"It's alright," the doctor said. "He can stay."

" _Gracias_ ," Kalisto said.

The nurse let him pass.

Kalisto chewed his lip to keep it from trembling. _Come on, don't be such a wuss. He's been hurt before…you both have…_ Yet tonight it was hitting him harder than usual.

"I'll get through this," Sin Cara, the mind reader, told him. He reached for Kalisto's hand with his functioning arm and squeezed it tight.

It was reassuring. "I know you will."

Sin Cara's shoulder was iced, then placed into a sling. "You should only have to wear it for a couple of days," the doctor explained. "Ice, painkillers, rest, light stretching—you know the drill by now, right?" He smiled sweetly at Sin Cara.

"How long will it take for him to recover?" Kalisto asked, rubbing his thumb over Sin Cara's. He didn't count on the doctor gossiping about it.

"It could be a while." The physician's eyes went gray with sorrow. "Three to twelve weeks, depending on how well you take care of it, Sin Cara."

Kalisto rolled his head back with a groan. "Man, I don't want to be without my partner for that long."

"Hey, don't worry about me," Sin Cara said unconvincingly. "I'm a fast healer. I'll be back out there in no time."

"Just take it easy," the doctor urged. "The gentler you are with yourself, the faster you'll be in the ring again."

"Sure, I'll be gentle. I have my wonderful partner here to take care of me. Isn't that right?" Sin Cara squeezed Kalisto's fingers, and he was able to smile again.

" _Claro que si_. Whatever you need."

Sin Cara lifted the fingers to his lips and kissed them tenderly. Kalisto nearly melted. Intrepidity, indeed.

* * *

Nearly an hour after arriving, they were cleared to leave. Sin Cara's arm was secure in a black sling. The second they were out the door, in the safety of an empty corridor, Sin Cara was towing Kalisto into a hold, into a sweet kiss. Kalisto craved his touch, his taste, and no matter how it lasted, he was always aching for more of his love by the end of it.

"God, I miss you already," Kalisto groaned. "Next few weeks are gonna suck."

"I'm not going anywhere. Maybe you take a few matches solo for a while, but you won't be without me. Especially not before…or after. The nights are ours."

"I'll kill Big E for what he did to you."

"Don't worry about it, _mi tesero_. Don't let them get under your skin. It's just what they want."

Kalisto rested his cheek against Sin Cara's chest. A strong hand on his back held him close, warm, safe. "I'm going to take care of you. I won't let anything else happen to you. I promise."

"Thank you, Kali."

"And hey. No more jumping in the ring unprepared for a match, you hear me?"

"Well, look at _you_ , being the assertive one," Sin Cara teased. He anchored a longing gaze down into Kalisto's eyes.

"You know what kinda hell it was, watching him attack you like that and not being able to do a damn thing about it?"

"I do know what kinda hell it was. That was me, watching you, just minutes before. Remember?"

Kalisto shook his head. "Can't stand it. We're better as a team."

"Oh, we're fine solo. But yeah, I prefer us as a team. I love knowing you're there, no matter what."

Kalisto's heart, cracked from the night's tragic event, was healing slowly but surely. " _Te amo_."

" _Te amo_."

Sin Cara kissed him devotedly.

But it wasn't long before Kalisto realized they weren't alone.

He broke the kiss abruptly and stared down the hall.

Xavier Woods was staring right back. Arms folded over his chest. Looking…well, not _amused_ , but not as infuriated as Kalisto felt at the sight of his enemy of the evening. Hell, of the _month_.

And he'd seen them kissing.

Xavier Woods _was_ a gossip. Kalisto could count on that.

"You better not take a _step_ towards us," Kalisto warned him, moving protectively in front of his partner, arms slightly elevated to shield Sin Cara from any potential ambushes.

"I'm not going to do anything," Xavier said gravely. Kalisto watched his eyes regard Sin Cara in his current position. "And I'm not going to apologize for what Big E did, Sin Cara, because you deserved to get knocked down after costing Kofi his match with interference."

Kalisto growled like a wolf. He strode towards Xavier, ready to shove the absent trombone up his ass and tear his hair out by the roots, but Sin Cara grabbed his arm. Kalisto tugged against the hold, but his partner wouldn't let him progress.

"No," Sin Cara whispered. "It's not worth it."

Xavier sighed. His stance relaxed once the threat of Kalisto charging him was dismantled. "But I _do_ have some compassion for _you_ , Kalisto. You might have given my boy Kofi a little hell tonight, but you were devastated when Sin Cara hit the floor like that. I saw it. And it's not easy, I know. The way you look at him…" Xavier pulled in a deep breath, interrupting his sort-of-kind-of apology, then pushed it out sharp. "It's rare to see two people so committed to one another nowadays, in such an apathetic world. Friendship's one thing, but especially in this business, you're used to it being all about _numero uno_. Looking out for yourself above all. Sin Cara was ready to throw himself into the ring to protect you, Kalisto. And I saw you on the side during his match with E. You were so worried about him. And I can understand that. More than you know. Believe me."

Kalisto cocked his head. Was Xavier Woods, for the first time ever as far as _he'd_ ever seen…being serious? Earnest, and actually… _sympathetic_?

"You probably hate me. I started it all. And you probably hate Big E. He _ended_ it all. And I can't say I'm thrilled about the way you took out Kofi tonight. Kofi to me is…" Xavier momentarily broke off eye contact, rubbing his neck, looking anywhere but right at the Lucha Dragons. "Well, he's what Sin Cara is to you. So yeah, I was bitter about watching him lose. But what I did was irrational and immature. I didn't mean for Sin Cara to put his career on hold for a while. I just wanted him to pay for his involvement. We fight week by week now, we talk a lot of trash…but this? What the two of you have? That runs way deeper. That's humanity. That's more personal than this business."

Kalisto was actually touched. He hadn't seen this coming at all.

"Anyway. Good night." He twisted on his heels, then called out a final statement over his shoulder. "And don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

Kalisto watched him go, stunned by the sincerity of his adversary.

"Wow," Sin Cara said. "Did you buy any of that?"

"I'm not sure. I don't think he had any reason to do that unless he meant it."

"Whether he means it or not, don't let your guard down."

"Oh, I won't. They ain't touching me."

"Damn right, they're not. Whether I have a dislocated shoulder or both legs broken and both arms in a cast—I'd fight all three of them alone for you."

"God, you're amazing. _Te amo mucho_."

Sin Cara kissed Kalisto's head—the top of his mask. "Come on. Let's get back to the hotel. Everything I want to do to you, I don't really need _both_ arms for."

Kalisto's lips coiled into a dirty grin. "Oh, I like the sound of that."

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

Xavier Woods was proud.

Well. Sort of.

He _was_ proud of Big E, who skipped far ahead of him and Kofi Kingston, even though the three of them were bounding together in an unbroken stamina towards their locker room. "Did you see that!?" he bellowed, voice ricocheting off the walls. " _Nobody_ gets away with tryin' to dupe the New Day like that!"

"Yeah, you showed him what's up!" Kofi declared.

"All thanks to Xavier here. Thanks for lookin' out for your boy like that, Woods." E patted Xavier's shoulder firmly. "I feel pretty damn good right now."

"It was my pleasure," Xavier answered.

But which "boy" had he truly been looking after?

Kofi, of course.

He'd been more than happy to gain Big E a match—and a victory—against Sin Cara, the one ultimately accountable for Kofi's loss. It was unacceptable. Did nobody pay mind to the rules anymore? Nobody saw Xavier Woods charging into the ring to strike Kalisto, or even Sin Cara on the side. He'd been cheering Kofi on on the apron. It was Kalisto who'd kicked him in the face, Sin Cara who'd bowled over Big E and himself. Kalisto caught Kofi in the distraction and pinned him for the win.

The punishment fit the crime. Sin Cara was taught a lesson.

So why did he feel like such an asshole?

Big E shoved the door to the locker room wide open. Kofi peeled his shirt off just inside. Xavier didn't miss the welts on his back from constant clouts against the mat, against the ropes.

"You doing okay?" Xavier asked him, refraining from usage of any pet names.

"Oh yeah," Kofi said, inspecting himself in a mirror. "He got me a couple of times, but it's no biggie."

"Did somebody say Big E?" E cackled. He rounded the corner to change clothes.

"Those don't look too good," Xavier observed aloud to Kofi. The tender spots were deep purple, blood discharging out of place beneath his beautiful bronze skin. His wrist, twisted gruesomely by Kalisto earlier in the match, also looked misshapen. But maybe he was just being paranoid. "Let me go get you some ice or something, Kofi."

"I'm about to hit the shower. Hot water'll do me good." Kofi smiled at him. "Thanks for looking out for me."

"Yeah. No problem."

"And I don't just mean tonight." His voice had taken on a more somber timbre. "I mean…always. All the time. You're with me, you're there."

"We're a team. It's what we do." His throat was suddenly droughty.

Kofi watched him for a moment, as if waiting for him to make a move. What could they do? Big E was just a wall away. Too awkward, too delicate of a situation to impose on whenever they wished.

When he realized Xavier wasn't going to do anything, Kofi bowed his head and made off for the shower. Xavier rubbed his eyes as he heard the water start up.

In his locker he freed his necklace, the one Kofi had gotten him for Christmas, the heavy chain with the dog tag engraved with the date of his very first championship win with the company. The thoughtful, imposing intention that had gone into this gift—not to mention the price—meant everything to Xavier.

It was proof of how much Kofi cared about him.

He pulled the chain over his neck and rubbed the dog tag between his fingers.

Kofi was always looking out for him, too.

They were good friends that way.

Friends…teammates…

The notion of adding lovers to the list was unreal.

Kofi meant so much to Xavier, so much. He wouldn't trade the guy for anyone in the world. But he had a career to consider. Another partner. Big E. Would it put a strain on the team? What if it didn't work out? The entire group would be at risk. What if others found out? What if the company abused their relationship the way it did with Lana and Rusev in _that_ monstrosity?

"Hey."

Xavier blinked, not realizing how much time had passed with him standing in one place, fingering the metal tag. Kofi was out of the shower now, dried from the waist up with a towel covering his bare lower body.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm hanging in there," Xavier said.

Kofi rubbed his arm. "Keep hanging. I don't want you to let go. I ain't jumping into whatever abyss your ass drops into."

Xavier grinned. "Yeah, you would."

"Yeah, I would," Kofi said softly.

"Yo, boys, you ready to bounce? We gotta get up early," E said, returning to the setting.

And the moment was over.

"Home sweet home, here we come," Kofi joked. Hotels had become more like a home-away-from-home for the New Day members.

But Xavier didn't care where he slept by the night or woke in the mornings or headed to after a long night of work. When he was with Kofi and Big E, he _was_ home.

* * *

Back at the hotel, E headed into the bathroom for a shower.

Xavier and Kofi were alone again.

Kofi looked adorable in his pajamas. An oversized blue New Day shirt, sporting animated shapes of themselves riding on the back of a unicorn, and plaid gray bottoms. He sat on one of the beds and brushed his hair out long, free of its up-do. Xavier was finding any excuse to look his way without staring like a creep. The hotel room decor, the paintings on the wall. The clock behind him on the nightstand.

His natural beauty drawing Xavier in like a stupid fly to tantalizing sugar.

He got it.

And he told the Lucha Dragons exactly what he'd concluded. He'd tracked them down to confess it all. Humility didn't come easy to Xavier Woods, but he _got_ it.

Work was one thing, the heart was another. The heart was a muscle that operated independent from the brawn used to beat the hell out of your opponent. It ran by its own schedule, its own agenda. Sin Cara had acted by the judgement of his heart tonight, not his head. He'd interfered with the New Day, cost Kofi the match, to protect Kalisto. Maybe Xavier didn't do that tonight, but he'd done it before. TLC, for instance. Taking advantage of the no-DQ rule and throwing his trombone at Kalisto on the ladder, giving Kofi the opportunity to scale it himself and claim the tag team championship in the name of New Day.

And he'd do it again. And again and again and again.

He got it.

In a way, tonight was payback on him.

Who was he to criticize a man for protecting the one he loved?

And, yeah, he'd had a feeling that Sin Cara and Kalisto were together as more than tag team partners. They didn't hide it well. They touched each other far too often during promos and interviews. It was pathetic and adorable. Xavier hadn't told them how jealous he was of their relationship.

How was it so easy for them? How did they choose to love each other regardless of any consequences?

 _Teach me your ways_ , he'd nearly told them.

Kofi grunted, wincing. His fingers pinched the skin of his back, and he grunted again.

"What's wrong?" Xavier asked.

"Think I pulled a muscle or something in my match. It hurts like a mother. And the hot water didn't do me as good as I thought it would."

"Oh. Do you want some medicine? I think I packed some…"

"Actually, Xavier, I was wondering if you could rub it out for me." His grin was playful, bashful.

Was he serious? _Damn_ him and his aptitude for making Xavier blush. Throwing the logic that had just been rippling in his mind straight to hell. _Logic has nothing to do with emotion, does it_?

"Of course." Xavier was more than happy to do so. His palms were sweating already. He'd never given Kofi a massage before.

"Just avoid the bruises, if you wouldn't mind," Kofi said, laying down flat on his belly and situating a pillow under his head.

"Where are they?"

"Would it be easier if I took my shirt off?"

"Uh." Xavier swallowed hard. Flustered and jittery for whatever reason, he took a breath in then out, wanting to regain control of his heart. He'd seen Kofi shirtless before—why was it suddenly making him agitated?

Because _this_ was going to change things.

No matter how much sense it made, or didn't make.

"Yeah, you can do go ahead and do that."

"You sure? You comfortable with that?"

"Take it off, take it off," Xavier said. The teasing helped work him into composure. "Think I have a few ones in my wallet, hang on…"

Kofi smiled as he wriggled out of his shirt, casting it aside onto the other bed. Xavier listened for the water in the bathroom. E was still in the shower. They had time. How much? He didn't know.

He had to make it count. There couldn't have been much.

Xavier slowly mounted Kofi on the bed, one leg at a time. He rubbed his palms over his pant legs to rid them of moisture. Kofi folded his arms and tucked his hands away beneath the pillow.

"Where am I, uh, aiming?" Xavier asked.

"Lower back, right side. Around that area."

Xavier was able to find the area Kofi was referring to quickly. The muscle was especially taut just above his waistline, near the base of his spine. Xavier concentrated here, coursing his thumbs against the rigid muscle with gentle pressing.

It must have been working, because Kofi was moaning, satisfied already by his touch.

"That good?" Xavier asked.

"Yeah, feels really good," he answered in a sleepy voice.

Xavier was more comfortable with the position the longer he went on. He moved his hands all around Kofi's back now, careful not to touch the swollen areas, pressing and squeezing and kneading the skin. Kofi felt good under him. He wanted to make Kofi feel as good as he made Xavier feel.

His fingers drifted too closely to Kofi's ribcage at one point, and Kofi flinched, giggling into the pillow.

"Careful," he said.

"Did that hurt?" Xavier asked, hands pausing.

"No. Tickled."

"Oh." Kofi didn't see Xavier grinning like a villain at this revelation. "You're ticklish?"

"Nah, just a little sensitive."

"I see." He continued the massage, but he couldn't resist "accidentally" prodding Kofi once—twice—alright, _three_ times more in the ribs. He giggled a bit harder each time Xavier poked him.

"Sorry, hands keep slipping," Xavier said, sheepish.

"Do it one more time and see what happens."

"That a challenge?"

"Don't test me, Woods."

"Oh, but I'm such a brat like that." Xavier used both hands to pinch Kofi's sides, and Kofi bucked. Xavier didn't let up this time. He squeezed the "sensitive" skin, tickling him and tickling him until Kofi was wiggling helpless under him, drenching the pillow with muffled laughter.

"STOP!" he managed through his giggles. "I'm gonna get you for this!"

"Oh yeah? Whatcha gonna do?"

Xavier was hoping Kofi would answer that dare, and he was not disappointed.

Kofi freed himself from beneath Xavier's straddling like he was in another match. He wrapped an arm around Xavier's neck, trapping him in a headlock, and pulled him down to the bed flat.

"Man, you better let me go, I don't wanna hurt you—" Xavier was cut off when Kofi reached around him and squashed the firm skin of his pectoral muscles between his fingers. Xavier shouted out—pinched nipples _hurt_ —but he was laughing.

"What'd you say about not hurting _me_?" Kofi taunted, squeezing him harder. He abandoned the headlock and used both hands to tweak Xavier's nipples roughly through his shirt. "Why don't you show me a little more _respect_?"

"Hey, joke's on you," Xavier grunted through helplessly smiling lips. "I kinda like it."

Kofi squeezed again.

"And it doesn't stop you! Come on, harder!" he exclaimed, chortling. "That all you got?"

A sharp pinch triggered another groan from Xavier. "Tap," Kofi ordered.

"Dude, you're gonna get security called on us—"

" _Tap_."

Xavier's skin was starting to ache under the hold, but he hadn't been lying when telling Kofi he liked it. He was feeling aroused, sensual, wanting more, so much more from him…

"Alright, alright, already." Xavier patted Kofi's devilish hands, "tapping." Kofi released him, and Xavier rolled away.

"And still the champion!" Kofi said, throwing his arms in the air. He was open to attack now, and Xavier couldn't resist. "Kofi Kingst—HEY!"

Xavier tackled him to the bed, seizing his wrists and pinning them to the mattress. The boys giggled, but the laughter diminished with realization of their new position. Their bodies mashed together, sharing warmth. Xavier was aware of the rapid beat of his heart. He could feel Kofi's breath on his neck. His eyes were so beautiful up close.

"Truce?" Kofi said, out of breath.

Xavier couldn't even answer him. Here was the stupid fly again, drawn to that sugar. Weak. Yielding. Submitting.

The heart has its own agenda.

Xavier sank his head down and embraced Kofi's lips with his own.

Kofi kissed him back ardently, surrendering to the moment. Xavier was on him, no stronger against his own damn emotions. He felt Kofi's tongue streak over his lips, asking permission to slip them. Xavier complied, lips parting, and Kofi's tongue sank into his mouth, darting about, gliding in a path. He took Xavier's bottom lip in a nibble. Xavier pushed himself further, harder into Kofi, as a tender moment became fervent.

"God," Kofi breathed when the pair broke for air. "How do you do that? How do you just…how do you do that?"

"You can't explain what I do, but whatever it is, I do it well?" Xavier asked, dizzy from the kiss, lightheaded, drunk on love.

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Same way you do it to me, Kofi."

"You are _amazing_." Kofi tapped a finger against Xavier's shoulder with each word. "Truly, truly amazing, Xavier Woods."

There he went again, bringing a fire to Xavier's cheeks. "Hardly. I am what you make me."

"Perfect?"

"Nowhere close."

"Imperfectly perfect?"

"Alright, I'll take that."

Kofi chuckled.

Xavier stroked a finger down Kofi's cheek. He could get lost in those eyes without a map. "Kofi…is this too risky for us?"

"What do you mean?"

"With everything we have going on…when I'm with you, none of it matters as much as you do. But it's still there. We have to think about what this could do…"

"What it could do? It could be great, Xavier."

"I'm just scared of it not working out somehow. I don't want to lose you, Kofi."

"You're not going to. No matter what. The bottom line is, I've always wanted you. Whether it was as a friend, a teammate, a _partner_ …I just wanted you."

"Do you want me as a 'partner'?" He wrapped the word in air quotes.

Kofi touched a finger to his lips. "As badly as you want me as a partner."

"That's pretty bad," Xavier admitted.

"Then what are you afraid of? We've nothing to lose, but so much to gain with each other. Let's take a chance and find out what can become of this."

"What about E?"

"He'll be fine. He'll taunt us the way he did on Christmas Eve, sure, but he'll get used to it. I'm sure, on the inside, he'll be nothing but supportive."

"And work?" Xavier had to ask.

Kofi clicked his tongue. "You shouldn't worry so much about what others think, man. You should worry about what _you_ think. And _you_ want this the way I want this. The way I want you."

"No doubt about that."

If Sin Cara and Kalisto could have it, dammit, why couldn't he? Kofi was right. This was worth everything to him.

He wanted it to work, and that was almost enough on its own to make it work. Right?

Kofi put his lips to Xavier's ear. "Here's the truth, Xavier Woods. I am falling in love with you. I fell in love, but every little thing you do makes me fall all over again just like the first time."

Now a tear was stinging Xavier's eye, and he dabbed at it with a finger. "Kofi, I…I've _always_ loved you…and I know what you mean about the things you do…every day is an adventure with you."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, with anyone else."

Xavier opened his arms, and Kofi rolled into a tight embrace. "Me neither."

There was nothing left to be said. This was going to happen, and Xavier was ready for the ride.

And E would emerge from the bathroom, of course, eye them with a bit of mirth. But for once, he wouldn't say anything. He would mention something about the match earlier and fights to come on Smackdown. He'd turn out the lights and wish his New Day partners goodnight, and not question it when Kofi Kingston refused to leave Xavier Woods's bed that night, choosing to sleep soundly in the arms of his beloved.

Xavier would fall asleep smiling tonight.

His heart won.

Damn independent agenda.

He loved it so.

* * *

 ** _Ambreigns chapter coming up tomorrow!_**

 ** _Review? :)_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_This was way shorter and less slash-y than I originally intended for this chapter, but I had to make a point. I'll make it up to you guys with a different Ambeigns slash fic sometime. ;)_**

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Roman Reigns was abashed.

He hadn't watched the tag match between his cousins and Dean Ambrose, and members of the League of Nations (a name he was _sick_ to death of hearing.) He had faith they could hold their own against the band of reprobates. They didn't _need_ Roman playing cheerleader for every single match. But when the Usos stumbled backstage, battered and beaten, and Ambrose wasn't among them, Roman was concerned.

"Where's Dean?" he said, putting a hand on Jimmy's discolored shoulder. He winced at the pain, and Roman removed the touch.

"I—I'm not sure," Jimmy groaned. "Sheamus won, we made off…"

Roman's eyes lifted to where his cousins had staggered from.

Was Dean still out there?

"Get yourselves to the trainer's room," Roman said, and he jogged back towards the arena.

Roman stood on the ramp, peering forward. The ring was empty but there was a gathering of men in black swarming over the announce table. Or…what was formerly an announce table. It wasn't there anymore.

Kevin Owens was being escorted away from the assemblage. He stared down into the mass, face void of color, eyes void of a soul.

Oh, God.

What the hell had happened?

"Dean!" Roman shouted, still without knowing the details of the circumstances. He rushed towards the mob of medical attendants, shoving past a couple of them, nearly knocking one to the floor just to make his way to the center of them all. "DEAN!"

Dean Ambrose was stiff as a board, flat on his back like he was preparing to fit a coffin. His eyes were shut as though it was merely a peaceful sleep he'd sank into. His mop of hair was straggly. Blots of purple and red marked his skin from his face to his exposed chest. Literally the only vital signs he was emitting was the occasional lift of his chest in what was probably a painful breath.

Panic feasted on Roman. "Dean, oh my God, Dean! Can you hear me?" he fell to his knees, ignoring the stab of pain from whatever piece of the table he'd managed to shank himself with. Someone put a hand on his arm, trying to tug him away, but Roman wrenched out of the hold. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" he screamed at whoever it had been. He wasn't going anywhere.

Kevin Owens had done this.

A surprise attack after Dean Ambrose had rushed to Neville's rescue earlier.

 _That son of a bitch. I'll kill him_.

Dean's eyelids opened like the damaged wings of a butterfly. He regarded the medical staff encompassing him, his Samoan warrior in front of the brigade.

"Rom—" he tried, interrupted by a sharp cough.

"I'm here, Dean." Roman took hold of his hand. His eyes brimmed with pricking tears, in a similar pang that was spiking at his heart like a scorpion's tail. _This is all my fault. I should have been here…I should have protected him better_ …

Dean wasn't going anywhere, either. Not without his help.

One of the men pushed his arms underneath Dean's. Another aided in sitting Dean up.

"Oh, Dean, I'm so sorry," Roman said.

"For what?" Dean grunted, accomplishing half a smile. Even in his misery, Dean was ever the scamp. "Beating the hell out of me like this? Nah, that wasn't you."

Several more were serving as crutches now, as strongholds for the fallen Ambrose, but Roman wasn't going to give up on this. He reached forward himself and lifted the Lunatic Fringe into his arms, drawing him out of the support of the medical staff.

"I'm taking him back," Roman told them.

Nobody was going to argue. Roman could _feel_ the smoke surging from his head. He'd Superman punch anyone who tried to get in his way now. Sure, the attendants were here to help, but it wasn't their job right now. Roman had to step in. Had to. He owed it to Dean.

"I'm gonna kill him, Ambrose," Roman muttered on the walk past the ring, up onto the ramp. He was met with small applause but overall apathy from bystanders. _What is with this crowd? They never seem to like it when we're here_. "I swear to God I'll kill him."

"Roman, it's my battle," Dean uttered weakly, head drooping back over Roman's muscular arm. "I don't want you involved. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Fuck that. Nobody lays a hand on you like that. _Nobody_."

Dean had been urging Roman to stay out of his business with Kevin Owens since the Intercontinental Championship match Dean had won against him. For reasons that made sense: of course Dean was out to keep Roman off a path of danger. But this wasn't even about a rivalry or a lost title anymore. This was way personal.

Kevin Owens was a red flag waving foolishly in front of Roman's eyes. He dared to taunt the bull.

 _This_ was the breaking point.

Roman carried Dean backstage. He felt heavy in the hold but Roman refused to let him go. He'd carry him to the ends of the earth if it meant shielding the one person he cared for more than anybody.

 _This is all your fault, Roman_ , an inner voice mocked him. Strangely enough, the voice resembled Owens's. _Where were you? Where were you? Why didn't you stop this_?

"Let me try walking, Roman."

Roman was hesitant. "You sure?"

Dean rolled out of the hold himself, positioning himself on one foot, then two. It didn't work so well and Dean slumped over, arms pressed over his stomach. " _Fuck_ , it hurts. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ it hurts."

"We're almost there, Dean. Just hang on." Roman offered his arms again but Dean dismissed them with a wave.

"I said I'll walk myself. Please. Thank you."

Roman crouched down, resting a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean, I feel like shit because of what happened to you…I'm so sorry…"

"You gotta knock off the apologies, man. You're not the one who did this to me."

"I could have done something about it."

"There was nothing you could have done that would stop his rage."

 _Great. That makes me feel so much better_.

"Sometimes a man's just gotta deal with his own stuff. You know?" Dean went on. "You're there for me, you watch out for me, that's what family does, sure. But you can't blame yourself every time I get hurt. You don't need to rush to my aid _every_ time I fight. Shit happens. Especially in this business."

"I know you're strong, Dean. I know you can look out for yourself. My faith in you never falters. But tonight—"

"Tonight was a damn setback. I'll get Owens back. Watch me."

"Not right now, you won't."

Dean was still floored. His body wobbled, pending a collapse. Why did he have to be so damn stubborn?

"Maybe I don't carry you to the trainer's room," Roman said. "But just lean on me. Use me. Otherwise you'll be crawling the whole way and you'll make it by the time Smackdown starts."

Dean chuckled humorlessly. "Fine."

Roman took his hand and hoisted him gently to his feet. Dean lifted his face to the heavens and discharged a series of cuss words, combating the pain with anger alone. Roman was not his savior but his partner, his equal.

"You may be Superman, Ro, but I ain't Lois Lane over here. I'd rather be my own superhero."

"You are," Roman assured him. "Which one, though?"

"Batman. Duh. Dude's got everything."

"Except powers," Roman teased.

"Shut up. Does the guy really even _need_ 'em? I think not."

Roman laughed. "Whatever you say."

He made himself relinquish Dean once they made it to the trainer's room. They'd take care of him. They'd patch him up.

Roman waited for him outside. _Don't blame yourself. Blame Owens._ Easier said than done. He hadn't disregarded Dean intentionally, ignored him, turned a blind eye to his suffering. Dean hadn't been calling out to him and Roman neglected to answer the cry. He would have been there, if he'd known. He would have Speared Owens through a brick wall before he had the chance to lay a hand on Dean.

But Dean was right. Roman couldn't hold him close forever. Dean was his own person, a great fighter. He was growing by the day. He'd already improved greatly since the days of the Shield, since the days of feuding with Rollins. Roman couldn't have been more proud of him.

His pride and his arrogance might have gotten him into trouble sometimes. But it also kept him going. Kept him fighting strong.

Dean was no damsel. Dean was Dean. And Roman was honored to have such a badass counterpart.

Roman was slumped on the floor for a long time, head against the wall, caught somewhere between sleep and awareness, when the door pushed open and he was suddenly alert again. How long had it been? Felt like hours. But Dean was standing, not as tall as he could have been but standing nonetheless. He was bandaged in some areas, exposed in others. It'd be a process but he was healing, already on his way back to maximum capacity and abilities.

"All good?" Roman asked.

"Yeah. They slid me some drugs and told me to rest up tonight. Guess we have to postpone our midnight trip up Everest."

"Damn shame."

"Hey, Roman…" Dean gauged him with soft eyes. "Thanks. I mean that. I may be able to hold my own sometimes, but when you _are_ there…I'm glad you are."

"I'll always be here for you, Ambrose. Whether that means fighting in the ring with you, or just cheering you on from the sidelines. I know you can do it. But I'm happy to be along for the ride."

"And what a ride this is, huh?" Dean tapped his chest with the back of his hand. "We've been through hell and back together, man. We've survived things that would scare the shit out of most people just _thinking_ about 'em. We're two pretty stellar guys."

"Yeah, I'd say we're borderline superb."

Dean leaned against Roman again, passively requesting a hug. Roman assented to it, folding his arms around him.

"It's nice to be cared about, is all I'm saying," Dean said.

"Yeah. Tell me about it." Maybe he cared too much, but he could willingly admit to it. Happily.

Dean's voice lifted to a normal volume. "Oh, and way to get fucking Vince McMahon _arrested_ tonight, Ro! I mean, wow! I was howling laughter, man, you should have seen me…"

Roman appreciated the elevated mood as Dean prattled on about Vince McMahon's arrest. Forgotten was Owens, even for only a little while. Forgotten was the guilt, forgotten was the blame. Remembered was what Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns had. Had before, still had, and would always have.

Each other.


End file.
